On the Road to Nurmengard
by eternalangelkiss
Summary: Sequel to The Traveler's Secret.  1940.  Sergei Krum has been taken and Jean Fulver is on the hunt to find him.  Johnny Wolfbane must face his inner demons and Albus Dumbledore is on the trail of a traitor.  The Road to Nurmengard has become perilous.


**A/N:** Thank you for taking the time to read this. Before you read further, I want to state that this is the sequel to The Traveler's Secret. If you have not read The Traveler's Secret, stop right here and read that story first. I also want to give special thanks to my very patient beta Tim the Enchanter for taking the time to look this over for me. This chapter may still need to be revised.

Since this story has taken quite awhile for me to get out, I want to give everyone a refresher. The Traveler's Secret started on June 25th 1940. It took place in a span of about a week and a half to two weeks.

At the end of The Traveler's Secret, Sergei Krum has been captured by a group of Grindelwald's followers, which includes Jean Fulver's Muggle friend and fellow soldier, Marius. Jean Fulver was shot by Marius, but is on the mend and on the hunt to track down Sergei Krum with the help of Johnny Wolfbane. Johnny Wolfbane has a rare shape shifting ability, who can turn into any animal he chooses. At times, he has trouble controlling his changes, especially if his emotions are heightened. With the help of the British SOE, they were last seen parachuting down into Northern France near the Belgium border.

Sergei Krum's wife and child are in hiding in Bulgaria through the help of his Uncle Vladimir. The blueprints, that Vladimir helped Sergei smuggle out of Russia, are connected to Sergei through a unique family spell. The blueprints have been magically inserted into Sergei Krum. For more information on this read chapter 10 of The Traveler's Secret.

At Hogwarts, Albus Dumbledore is unaware that a former teacher, Professor Vikious, is innocent of the crime of being a spy for Grindelwald. Vikious was killed while discovering who the real spy was and left a note in the hands of the caretaker, Homer Borden, who was murdered when Hogwarts came under attack. The letter slid under the caretaker's desk. For more information read Chapter 24 of The Traveler's Secret.

Okay I think that is enough of a refresher. And now, here begins On the Road to Nuremgard.

CHAPTER 1: FOUR ROADS

_Northern Bulgaria, July 1940_

Elena Krum pulled her shawl closer to her chest. A sudden chill struck her as she paced the dusty small attic space she shared with her son. Something was wrong. She could feel it and the dread that came with that intuitive knowledge flooded through her body in waves.

Every once in awhile, Elena's eyes would take in the room about her, focusing on the peeked roof above her, lingering on the myriad shadows and gray spider webs around her and coming to stop, as they always did, on her son. At the moment, he was sound asleep, curled up under the quilt that she had tucked him in with.

Elena moved closer to her son, kneeling down next to his cot. As she leaned towards him, she could see the beginnings of worry marks on his young face and her heart constricted in her chest. He shouldn't have to deal with the terrors they had had to face lately. She and her son had been smuggled out of their own home in the dead of night by Sergei's uncle Vladimir. They had been moving from place to place in the company of strangers, who had risked their lives to hide them from a threat that Elena didn't fully understand. She knew that her husband came from a world that was very different than her own, but he had only started to open up about that world when their son started showing signs of what she would later learn was magic. It was this world of magic that had turned their lives inside out and yet looking on her son, she couldn't bring herself to hate it. He was a part of that world now.

Elena watched as Ivan whimpered, his tiny hands clenching at his side as yet another nightmare haunted his sleeping mind. It tore her up inside to see her son in this constant state of terror. She was running out of excuses to give him as to why they were moving about from place to place and where his father was. Elena leaned down closer to him, bringing her chilled hands to her lips. She blew on them until they were warmed and then gently stroked her son's head. Her touch had always had a calming effect on him and he slowly fell back into a peaceful slumber.

Once he was still again, Elena pulled away and as she did she couldn't help but think that Ivan was looking more and more like her husband everyday. As the thought flitted across her mind, a shot of pain struck her. No matter how many times a day she felt it, it never got easy dealing with the very real fear and terror she felt for her husband. She didn't know where he was or if he was all right and not knowing these things sometimes made it hard for her to even breathe, like some heavy weight which sat on her heart at all times.

Stifling the sob that was welling up in her throat, Elena stepped away from her son to the one small window the attic had. She liked to lift the curtain and peek out at the silent nature around them. Sometimes, at night, she would get bold and pull back the curtain completely to let in the cool moonlight. It gave her a bit of normalcy to bathe in that light, and reminded her that there was still some beauty and peace left in the world.

Elena was just about to do this when she caught movement out the corner of her eye. She froze at the window, her eyes scanning the dark shadows around the nearby tree. Her rational mind told her it was nothing, just the breeze rustling the leaves, but her instincts kept her still. Something wasn't right.

And she suddenly knew why. Standing in the shadows of the tree was a man. At first, she hadn't seen him and wouldn't have if the moon hadn't shone through the bit of clouds that had been covering it. He was dressed in a black robe and he was looking right up at her window, at her. She could feel his eyes on her and a panic started to well up in her. Elena watched as a slow smile dawned across his face, a terrible grin of deadly intentions.

Elena dropped the curtain and stumbled away from the window. She knew who it was. Men in similar robes had broken into their house and had kidnapped her husband. She ran over to the rubbish pile in the corner, yanking out a small pack of provisions she always carried with her. Elena rifled through it for a moment until she found what she was looking for: Sergei's revolver.

Feeling the cool metal weapon in her hand calmed her. With it, she didn't feel as helpless. If someone was going to attack them, she would be ready for them. And yet there was still a doubt that lingered in her mind. The gun had not stopped the men from taking her husband. Elena edged her way to the window, making sure that her shadow would not give her away. Just as she reached the side of the window and was about to pull back the curtain to have another look outside, there was a rustling movement in the room behind her.

Elena jerked around, her finger hovering over the trigger of the gun. Sitting on the bed was her son, his little travel bag sitting on the cot next to him. He was diligently and silently putting on his shoes.

Elena watched his little fingers as they laced up his boots. Tears stung her eyes. Ivan knew that something was wrong. He knew when to get ready to flee. She loved her son all the more. He was stalwart and he never complained no matter how bad it got for them. Elena wanted to run to him and wrap her arms around him. She wanted to lay him back down and tell him that everything was going to be all right, that there was no war and no men in black robes that waited outside their window, but that would be a lie and he would know it. It was cruel that her son should have no time to be naïve and carefree as a child should.

Ivan finished tying his shoes and looked up at his mother, a stony calm in his eyes. He was waiting for her to tell him what to do. He was waiting for her to grab him by the hand and lead him out of there in the dead of night as they had done so often lately. Elena pointed to her bag and then to the corner closest to her, which was out of the reach of the window and farthest from the door. Her son nodded. Picking up his bag, he crouched low and crept over to her bag. Grabbing a hold of it, he dragged it over to his mother.

Meanwhile, Elena slowly pulled back the curtain and peered out into the night, her sharp eyes scanning the shadows around the tree. The man was gone and that made her nervous. She desperately searched all the area around the tree and the fields nearby as the clouds scudded across the moon, obscuring her view. Nothing. The more she searched, the more nervous she grew.

Elena glanced down for a moment when she heard Ivan pull her bag up to her and took his stance behind her. He knew what to do. She turned back to the window her eyes searching the land below as her free hand blindly groped for the strap of her bag. Finding it, she lifted it to her shoulder.

The man was nowhere to be seen, but her gut told her that he wasn't gone. He was out there and she knew that they couldn't stay there any longer. Elena had to think. How was she going to get them past the man in the black robe?

Just as she thought about their escape, a loud bang sounded below them, the reverberation of it shaking the floorboards beneath her feet. It sounded as if a small explosion had gone off. Elena grabbed her son and pulled him behind her as she pushed them away from the window. She raised the gun in her hands and pointed the weapon at the door. Besides the small window to the right of her, the door was the only way into the attic, but it was also the only way out as well. A thousand thoughts ran through her head as the sounds of glass breaking and furniture being upturned reached her from below. She could hear the muffled screams of the older couple who were hiding them. Her hand tighten on the revolver as she used her other hand to cock the weapon. Her aim was steady, and she was ready to shoot whoever came through that door.

Elena waited, the ruckus of the destruction below making its way up to her. She knew that the assailants were getting closer and closer. She could feel Ivan clutch her skirt tighter, but not once did her son cry out in fear.

As Elena braced herself for the immediate attack, a loud crack sounded in the attic amidst the barrage of noise that was taking place below and suddenly Vladimir Krum stood in the middle of the attic. He quickly spotted them and ran over to them.

Elena stared at him, the gun still raised and poised to shoot. She hadn't seen or heard from Vladimir in a month after he had safely delivered them here. He had told her that there were spells that could be used to make someone look like someone else. Vladimir must have realized this and he stopped a few feet away from them. She was waiting for the password.

"The eagle must soar to live another day," he quickly stated. Elena dropped the gun as Vladimir held out his hand. "Hurry. We don't have much time. The spells I placed on this attic won't hold for long since I have undone the Anti-apparation spell on it. Take my hand!"

"What about the people who live here?"

"They're safe for now. Elena, take my hand!"

Elena grabbed Ivan close and as she reached out to grab Vladimir's hand, she could hear the sound of feet pounding up the stairs. The last thing Elena saw before they disappeared was the door to the attic as it was blown off its hinges.

_On the coast of France, near the Belgium border, Mid-July 1940_

_He could see them standing so close and yet so far from him. Sergei's heart ached as he stretched his hands across the narrow lane that divided him from his family. It was snowing and the wet flakes that fell from the sky peppered stray strands of his wife's hair that was tucked under a shawl. The bitter wind cut through the sparse woods that surrounded them, slicing into Sergei's hand as he reached for his wife. Every facet of her face stood out sharply in the winter light. Her bright, blue eyes were like brilliant sapphires and the remnants of her hair that he could see were the color of pale morning light. She was real and she was just a few feet away from him. At her side was their son, who was huddled close to his mother, the cold and his fear making his tiny body shake uncontrollably. _

_ Sergei opened his mouth to say something to them, but he found that only silence came out . He went to step closer to them, but his feet seemed to have been cemented to the very spot he was in. His frustration and fear started to grow in him. Something wasn't right. By the way his wife looked at him, the terror she had in her eyes, he knew that some horror awaited for them. She tried to speak, but her words got lost among the cold wind that raked over them._

_ Sergei stretched out his arms further, pushing against the invisible force that locked him in place. His panic was growing in him and he could do next to nothing to stem the tide of it. The wind grew sharper and colder. And that was when he heard it._

_ At first, he had been unsure of what the noise was, but as it drew closer, he knew that it was the fall of muffled footsteps. Suddenly, a hair raising howl blasted through the air around him. Sergei's heart raced in desperation as the howl grew closer and closer. He writhed and twisted in his spot, trying anything and everything to move, but to no avail. _

_ A look of terror shot across his wife's face. She gave him one last pleading look and then grabbed a hold of Ivan's hand and rushed out of the woods. Sergei fought even harder to move, streams of sweat running down his face. His muscles were tense and sore, but he continued to struggle. His screams were empty and hollow, the silence of them deafening. _

_ The howling of the wolves shattered the silence around him as a pack burst out of the frost covered trees in front of him. Their muzzles were covered in blood and their bodies thin from the lack of food. Strings of saliva ran from their dirty mouths. They barreled down the same path his wife and son had taken just moments before. Sergei screamed out in terror and tears of frustration ran down his face as he flailed helplessly against his imprisoned state. He begged his legs to move, but they would do no such thing. He was barely aware that he was screaming when his wife's bloodcurdling scream rent the air around him and then suddenly stopped._

And that was when he woke up, his body thrashing around and a pair of restraining hands on his shoulders, pinning him to the ground. His hands were tied, the bindings biting into his skin, but they didn't stop him from flailing about.

"Elena! Ivan!" He screamed out, his struggles growing wilder by the minute.

He didn't remember where he was, but it wasn't snowing and it was night. Sergei's eyes began to take in his immediate surroundings. He was in a dilapidated shed that had gardening tools on the wall and a small wood burning stove in the corner.

Sharp green eyes in a pale, oval face hovered over him, a look of concern flitting momentarily across the youthful features. A mess of brown, dirty curls framed the face. Sergei recognized the man who held him down, but his thoughts were slow in remembering exactly who he was. His pounding heart flooded his ears, blocking out what it was the young man was saying to him. The man's words began to become clearer as his heart began to slow. A recollection of his situation was on the verge of coming back to him when a man with a wand appeared behind the youth restraining him.

"_Petrificus Totalus!_" The man snapped and Sergei felt his limbs turn to stone.

"What was that about?" asked another man who was just out of Sergei's view.

"I think he was having a nightmare. It was nothing. I had it under control!" The green eyed youth who still held him down snapped.

Sergei could see frustration as well as panic growing on his captor's face. A shadow fell over the green eyed youth and Sergei saw him shudder as his face began to pale. Fear danced across the young man's eyes and in that moment, Sergei remembered his captor's name: Marius_._

As suddenly as the name shot across his mind, Sergei was flooded with the memories of what had happened to him just nights before. He remembered the rooftop and the attack. He remembered being surrounded by wizards and fighting. He remembered the pitched battle between Jean Fulver and Marius, their dark figures clashing against each other, hand against hand, friend against friend. And he remembered the gunshot.

"Hey, you Muggle worm," snapped a menacing baritone. Marius flinched, stiffening as if he expected to be hit. "Don't you ever use that tone with me again. Keep that filthy Squib under control or I will keep him under control for you and trust me, neither you nor him wants that to happen!"

Marius's hands shook as he pressed down harder on Sergei's now relaxed shoulders either out of fear or as an attempt to look as if he was doing something to control his kidnapped victim. Sergei didn't try to struggle against him and wisely remained silent. Instead, his eyes took in more of his dim surroundings or what little of them he could see on his back. He could hear at least two men behind him from the guttural laughter that erupted from their throats when Marius was reprimanded. A foul, unwashed scent inundated the tiny room.

Sergei felt Marius's grip relax on his shoulders and the captured man turned his attention on his kidnapper. This was the first time Sergei had to really take in the man who had helped capture him and who had betrayed his friend. At first sight, Marius didn't look the part of a kidnapper and killer. His face had delicate features, and his wide, green eyes didn't have the sharp glint of a hardened criminal. His hands and clothes were well kept and clean. Even when Marius had been pressing down on his shoulders to hold him down, Sergei had gotten the impression that Marius was only half-heartedly exerting himself. Sergei, being a burlier man, could have shoved the younger man off him if he had wanted, but had known better than to do that.

In all, Sergei had come to the conclusion that Marius was a scared little boy who had always gotten what he wanted, but had never had to face the consequences of his actions until now. Sergei may have, if the circumstances were different, been able to feel pity for the young man if it weren't for the fact that Marius had cold-heartedly shot his own friend. With a pang of horror, the image of a wounded and possibly dead Jean Fulver falling limply to the ground filled his mind.

A cold anger rolled through him like a wintry wind across a barren plain and any pity he may have had was gone. Marius had chosen his side. He had crossed an unforgivable boundary. There were certain bonds that one did not betray or break.

Marius, seeing the rage in Sergei, got up slowly and turned away from him either out of shame or indifference. Sergei wasn't sure which it was and at the moment didn't care. Marius was as much his enemy as any of the other men in the shed with them. The young man walked away from the captured man, his shoulders tense and his hands balled up at his side. Sergei noticed that the young Muggle was staying as far away from his companions as possible, which was hard to do in such a small place.

For the first time, Sergei took in his other captors more clearly. There were three wizards in the shed with him including the one that had spoken to Marius. He vaguely remembered struggling against them as they took him hostage, but seeing them in the light of day made Sergei's panic grow inside. Slowly he pushed it down and focused.

One wizard was a tall, grizzled man with lank, unkempt hair and eyes that held a cold, malicious glint to them. Sergei immediately recognized him as the man who had stunned him just moments before. His robe was patched up and frayed and a strange tattoo of a dragon curled around his forearms. Sergei remembered hearing talk in the Krum manor about certain Transylvanian wizards who bore those markings, markings that had caused quite a bit of unease amongst his family. Krum didn't know as much as he should have about the wizarding world, but he had always been wary of men with dragon tattoos. The tattooed wizard sat at a table, his casual manner belied the ferocity in his eyes. Sergei knew he would be quick to react and to kill.

Next to the Transylvanian was a shorter, plumper man whose wiry, gray hair stood on end around the balding dome of his head. His clothes were shabby and torn and he was in dire need of a shave. Bright eyes pierced out of the thick spectacles that he wore. Krum had seen the balding man watching him, those beady eyes scrutinizing him as if he were some strange animal. At times, a smirk would linger on his face as the man looked down his abnormally large nose at Sergei. He was cunning and that was terrifying to Krum.

The third man soon joined the two others at the table, a pipe in his mouth. He was tall and regal looking. From far away, he could look like someone's grandfather, but up close he looked as cruel as a bird of prey. He had been the one who had spoken earlier, the one that had caused the terror in Marius. He was the one who was in control, and, at the moment, his unflinching gaze was fixed on Sergei. He was evaluating him, calculating his worth. Sergei knew that this man was the most formidable one of them all.

Sergei turned away from the man's piercing stare. He suppressed a shiver as best he could. Fear was the one thing he couldn't show his enemy. He knew this as if it were an absolute. He also knew that he couldn't sit there and wait for someone to come and rescue him. Although he was certain that if Jean Fulver was alive, and that was questionable, he would search for him until the last breath left his body, Sergei couldn't depend on it. He had to do something on his own. He couldn't allow them to gain control of what he had. Nothing was ever easy, but he would make due with what he had to work with.

Sergei Krum glanced over his captors once more, lingering on Marius the longest. The Muggle was the key. Sergei began to plan.

_Northern France, near the Belgium border Mid-July 1940_

Monsieur LeCourt massaged his aged hands, trying to rub away the ache that inflamed his joints. The ache had become a constant reminder of how infirm he had grown in his old age. The simplest actions and movements brought about pain and weakness and it made it hard to remember that at one time his hands had been vital and strong. It had been his hands that had hammered impurities out of iron and cradled his little grandson when he had been born. It had been his hands that had held a gun alongside his son in the first war and caressed his wife's face under the summer sun. Now as he held them up under the moonlight's graceful touch, the old man found that his hands had turned into a disappointment.

Never had he felt as he did now under the penetrating glare of the stars. To be useless in an age when strength was needed was terrifying to him. The world was steadily descending into the chasm of oblivion as mad ideologies rampaged throughout the lands. And so much of world he had grown up in had fallen away.

During the first war, Monsieur LeCort had fought alongside his son in the trenches. His country had bled as it had never bled before and the land had been destroyed beyond reckoning, but the blacksmith and his son had somehow made it through. So many others had not. Monsieur LeCort hadn't thought that anything could have been worse than the devastation left behind from the first war, but the past few months had proven him to be tragically wrong.

France had fallen under the German shadow and that shadow had grown talons. With Petain and what was left of the French government down south and the North under German occupation, it was enough to make any Frenchman despair. His beloved country was taken and what was worse, England, their ally, had turned on them. About two weeks ago on July 3rd news of an English bombing of the French Fleet off the coast of Algeria at Mers-el-Kébir had reverberated throughout France. Where did you turn to when your own ally turned against you?

_At least, I am here. I can still be of some use._

The thought comforted him and for a small while, he felt the ache in his hands diminish. Monsieur LeCourt scanned the dark horizon, his eyes trying to determine if anything was moving amongst the shifting shadows. He had a job to do and he was determined to do his very best.

He was waiting for a man and his companion. LeCourt didn't know if the companion was a man, woman or a child and he was a little confused as to why this fact was unknown to his fellow resistance members, but he didn't question it. They may be small, fledgling group of renegade soldiers and ordinary citizens, but orders were still orders. If they wanted him to wait here for a man and his companion, then he would wait here for as long as it took.

LeCourt straightened himself as much as he could as his eyes scrutinized the dark shadows around him. Despite the ache he felt in his bones, he was happier than he had been in a long time. There was very little in the world around him that could make him smile. So much had gone wrong. So much had happened that he had never thought he would ever see in his lifetime.

The partly cloudy moonlit sky above him echoed down on the land below in shadows and pockets of light, like some disfigured chess board. And out of this chessboard of shadows and light, a man and some other being walked towards him. With each passing moment, the figures grew clearer and clearer. One was tall and seemed to walk with a purposeful and driven stride. The other was maybe half the size of the first, which threw the old man off. He was suspecting that the man's companion was a child, but that supposition changed again as the figures came to a stop thirty meters from him as was the rules.

Monsieur LeCourt was now certain that the man's companion was not a child, but some rather large animal at his side. The old blacksmith thought it strange that the man should have the animal and odder as he considered how the man had gotten the animal into France. From the knowledge that was given to him, the man and his companion were supposed to have parachuted down near the small town a few kilometers from their meeting place.

As he tried to imagine how it had been possible to parachute an animal down, his mysterious guest stepped into the light and the old blacksmith came to see his new companion for the first time. He was tall man in his late twenties, with a shock of stark white hair and cobalt eyes that seemed as sharp as glass. The old man could tell from the man's tense pose of his body and the dark look in his eyes that he was not one that he would want as an enemy.

Monsieur LeCort turned his eyes onto the creature at the stranger's side and nearly jumped back in terror. Staring him down was the largest wolf he had ever seen in his life. At first, he hadn't really been able to see how big the creature was due to the fact that its pitch black coat melded into the shadows of the night, but in the light there was no mistaking how big it was. The old blacksmith nervously looked from the wolf to the man and back to the wolf.

"Tell me stranger, if you can, what happens when the gophers have gone into hiding?" Monsieur LeCort stated, trying to hide the apprehension he was feeling.

The old man waited, his breath trapped in his throat and his heart pounding in his chest. For a moment he forgot to breathe. This was it. This was what was going to determine if this was a friend or a foe. If this man said the wrong answer, then he would know the truth.

The man with the stark blond hair calmly answered, "The Maquis will come and save us all!"

A wave of relief rushed through the old man, who wasn't sure what he would have done if the young man had answered incorrectly. He smiled at the blond-haired stranger for the first time in a long time.

"Ah, my fellow Frenchman. Come. The resistance is waiting. We haven't had much news lately from our counterparts in England."

"Yes! Good! I want to see your leader. I will tell him what I can, but at the moment I am on a mission of great importance and I don't have much time. Now take me as quickly as you can to your leader!"

The old man gave the newcomer a stout nod and led the way across the land with the blonde-haired man and the wolf at his side.

_Paris, France July 1940_

Madeleine wrapped her cloak closer to her body, as the last rays of sunlight succumbed to the encroaching dark. Despite the still-lingering warmth of the dying day, a chill rippled through her. She couldn't shake the wary feeling that was growing inside her, germinating into a primal beast. She sped up, skirting rubbish bins and abandoned old crates that lined the Muggle alley. If there had been any other way, she would have left the safe house by magical means, but Madeleine knew, as did the rest of her dwindling group, that nowhere was safe now.

All around her the shadows of the growing twilight loomed, creating a macabre dance across the faded and chipped brick walls. Madeleine's heart thudded into her ribcage, but despite the drumming in her chest, her face remained resolute and calm. She clutched her wand tightly in her hand, her arm pressed to her side. Madeleine could feel the bulk of papers that she carried with her as her arm pressed them against her side.

She could still remember how just a few weeks before she had been amongst Grindelwald's followers. It had taken months and several distasteful actions on her part to infiltrate his camp, but in the end, it had been worth it. She had smuggled the various papers right out from the head of the encampment's tent. The bundle contained several letters and documents from members of Grindelwald's inner circle, witches and wizards who had been unknown until now. By knowing who their enemy was, the resistance would be able to fight their enemy better.

Madeleine felt her stomach twist as she remembered the odious, foul smelling man she had stolen those papers from. She had been subjected to being his companion for the past few months, and with any luck, she would never have to see his disjointed face again. Being with her fellow witches and wizards, who were apart of the resistance, had brought her relief and comfort, especially Elise.

Ever since Elise had come to their small group a few months back, Madeleine felt as if a new breath of life had filled them, especially her. It had been Elise that Madeleine had confided in the most and Elise who had helped her through the dark place her mind and soul had been in ever since she had come back. Whenever she was with her, Madeleine was able to smile and laugh as she used to. Without her, Madeleine wasn't sure she would have had the strength to continue on her mission. She had hope that once that mission was complete and she had handed over those documents to the French Ministry of Magic, who were now in hiding, that the future would be open to her. With any luck, she would see Elise again. With any luck, she would be able to look on the upcoming sunrise free from the worries she had had to face in the last year.

But luck seemed to be a finicky friend. It had not been seen in quite a while. In fact, a terror had settled on the small group of witches and wizards she knew. Members of their group had been found murdered with Grindelwald's infamous sign marked in public places near the bodies. Someone knew who they were and were picking them off one by one.

Rumors had been coming from the east about an assassin who struck fear in the hearts of witches and wizards everywhere. No one knew who this assassin was, but theories and assumptions had been made. It had been theorized by some that the assassin may be a male due to brutality of the murders and the strange wolf outline that he left at every murder he committed, like some ritualistic offering. Several eyewitnesses thought they say a bulky figure in black fleeing the scene, while others claimed that the smell of lingering cigar smoke always filled the area. Still others claimed that he was a shape shifter and that was why he had never been caught.

Madeleine didn't know what was true and what was not since no one had seen the person that they were calling the Wolf and lived to tell anyone about it. The assassin was like a phantom and a nightmare, coming to terrorize the wizarding world with his sadistic murders.

And now, the Wolf had found his new hunting grounds amongst Madeleine and her friends. Just two days ago Amélie and Laurent had been found brutally slain alongside their Muggle contacts in their safe house, with Grindelwald's sign emblazoned on the door and a tiny wolf carved into the lintel. Their bodies were barely recognizable when they had been found. It was only through their wands and certain other personal affects that they had been identified. This had brought a cold reality to their small group: nobody was safe anymore.

Thinking about this assassin only made Madeleine's nerves turn into writhing snakes inside her. Everywhere she looked she saw danger, every shadow an enemy. Madeleine sped up. If she could get past the anti-Apparation spells placed around the safe house, she could use her magic and get to her Muggle contact. Her destination was only known to her and the leader of their small group.

The moment the French Ministry of Magic had been forced underground, it had become crucial for the resistance to establish ties to the Muggle world, ties that the enemy couldn't easily trace. Her tie was with a carpenter named Marcus and his wife Marie. Their son had shown early signs of magical ability and would have gone to the Beauxbatons Academy for Magic, were it not for the war. Muggle-born children were in great danger from Grindelwald's followers, who believed Muggle-borns should not be allowed to practice magic. Marcus knew the risk of helping out the resistance, but what other choice did he and his wife have if they wanted to protect their son from Grindelwald's followers?

A whisper of a footstep sounded behind her and Madeleine froze in place, an unbearable panic coursing through her veins. Her skin prickled as the feeling of being watched inundated her. She remained absolutely still. The cool night air rustled through the dimly lit alley. It skittered across the pavement and she had to strain her ears to listen for any unnatural noise. Someone was behind her. She knew it. She gripped her wand tighter, getting ready to turn and face her unknown stalker.

"Hello, Madeleine," called out a familiar voice.

Madeleine jumped at first, but then she felt her body relax as she turned to face the woman she knew stood behind her. She would have recognized Elise's sweet voice anywhere.

Elise was disarmingly beautiful with her pale, heart shaped face and large brown eyes. Her petite body often gave people the impression that she was younger than she really was. With her full lips, she could convey sensuality and innocence in one enigmatic smile. She looked dazzling under the cool evening light, so much so that Madeleine became fuzzy headed under her influence.

"Elise, love, what are you doing out here? It isn't safe for any of us, anymore. After what happened to Laurent and Amélie, we can't be found in numbers. Go back to the safe house!"

Elise smiled and it stunned Madeleine, making her heart thud in her chest like a wild drum. Her friend lithely and silently moved closer to her, like some ethereal angel. Madeleine found that she was enchanted and it felt like the day she had first seen Elise months before.

A cold wind cut through the ally and the chill of it sliced through Madeleine's jacket. She suddenly remembered where she was and how very real the danger they were in by staying in an exposed place for too long. And yet, she felt no terror for herself, but for Elise.

"Elise, you have to leave. It's not safe here. You have to go back to the safe house. You know that!"

"I know," Elise calmly stated. "I know. And I'll be leaving soon, but there's just something you have that I want."

Elise's smile widened and her warm eyes sizzled. Madeleine could barely contain the way her heart leapt to her throat. Despite the growing warning in her stomach, she found that she couldn't move even if she wanted to. Elise had her paralyzed in that very spot with one smile.

"What…what is it, love?" Madeleine whispered, unable to keep her words steady. She found herself trapped by the allure of this woman, who was now only a few feet away.

"Oh, but you must know what it is that I want," Elise murmured, her words like a siren's song to Madeleine's ears.

Despite herself, Madeleine felt her heartbeat speed up in her chest.

"I… do?" She stammered, blushing at her own inarticulate words.

Elise stepped closer, her light footsteps barely making a noise as she moved. Madeleine's limbs began to tremble and she felt her wand shake in her hand, but she wasn't sure if it was because of the sudden fear she felt or the sudden exhilaration. Her thoughts were a jumbled mess and for a moment she forgot where she was and what it was she was supposed to do.

"You have with you something very important, something I would so very much like to have," Elise whispered. Madeleine stiffened, but said nothing as she was completely under Elise's spell. Elise continued. "You have a bundle of documents that do not belong to you and I would like to have them back!"

Elise's cool words sliced through the night, jarring Madeleine partially out of her stupor. _There's something I need to do!_ Madeleine's mind screamed out.

"What…what do you…wait-" Madeleine stated as a sudden realization struck her. "What do you mean by 'have them back'?"

Elise's lips rose into a cruel smile, full of intentions and knowledge that Madeleine had never expected to ever see on such a lovely face. Madeleine jumped back, raising her wand on the defense, but before she could even get it half way up, it was ripped from her hands.

Stunned, she noticed for the first time that Elise's wand was held up and was pointing straight at her chest. Madeleine's mind reeled by the sudden change of events. She couldn't believe that the one she had trusted so completely had just disarmed her and had done it so effortlessly as if it were child's play. She hadn't even spoken out the spell, which spoke volumes about her ability, an ability that Madeleine had never suspected to have been so powerful before.

"Elise, why are you doing this? We're on the same side!" Madeleine snapped.

She was no longer under the thrall of this woman and she suddenly started to see what very real danger she was in. No one, but their leader, knew she was here. Madeleine braced herself, her rational mind not really accepting that this woman who had been more than a friend to her was now holding her at wand point.

"Side? Sides to me are all relative. I take whoever's side is more profitable to me. And right now the man I work for wants the papers you have stolen back. I know you have them. Hand them over!"

"No," Madeleine answered. Her words were precise and even. She was no longer afraid. She was not going to allow this woman to make her a traitor. She would rather die than help Grindelwald and in that knowledge, she found peace.

"Madeleine, it doesn't matter to me. You give me the papers and I kill you mercifully. You don't give me the papers, and it will be a very long night of excruciating pain for you and then I take the papers from you. It's your choice."

"Why are you doing this? After everything we were to each other, why would you betray me like this?" Madeleine asked, mortified by the emotion she heard in her words.

"Because I get paid to do this," Elise answered nonchalantly. She began to saunter over to Madeleine, a wicked smile playing across deep red lips. "And I like doing it. Now hand over the papers or…" Elise snatched Madeleine's chin, her wand piercing the side of Madeleine's cheek. "…I will start cutting you and trust me you don't want to get me started down that road."

"No," Madeleine whimpered, unintended tears streaking down her face. She wanted to stand strong and shout the word back at Elise with all the strength of her soul, but this betrayal was more than she could handle.

"My, that is the wrong answer," Elise responded merrily. With a quick flick of her wand, a deep gash sliced down Madeleine's face.

Madeleine screamed out in pain which only made Elise's smile widened. Madeleine knew that this was going to be her last night alive and she hoped that it would end quickly. Elise, on the other hand, felt her blood rush through her as the thrill of a new kill loomed on the horizon.

As the clouds scudded across the bright and watchful moon, Madeleine's screams pierced the night, unheard by anyone nearby. Her agonizing screeches was lost in the silence of the empty street and all the world was ignorant of them. Her screams continued for another half hour until they ended abruptly. A burst of light shot up into the sky, searing the heavens for the first time with the sign of Grindelwald. Everyone would now know what had happened.

The Wolf had struck again.


End file.
